


Your Mother Was a Crook

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's got to be a story behind Heyes' comment to the Kid about his mother being a crook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Mother Was a Crook

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Just You, Me and the Governor #5

"Pardon me, sir, I wonder if you could direct me to Miss  
Millie's Boarding House for Women of Good Character?"

The portly gentleman turned grudgingly at the sound of the  
quiet voice. It belonged to a demure young lady with pale blond  
hair, eyes blue as gentians drenched with morning dew, and the  
sweetest face he'd beheld in many a year. His impatience to  
arrive at his business appointment faded as he raised his hat and  
inquired, "What may I do for you, my dear?"

"Miss Millie's Boarding House?" she repeated. "I was told  
it was a genteel establishment. I just arrived in town and I  
seem to have lost my way."

A stranger in town? And alone, seemingly. Better and  
better. He rubbed his hands as he pondered. "Miss Millie's?  
Hmmm. I don't believe I'm familiar with it. But I'd be  
delighted to place myself at your disposal till you get, ah,  
settled."

"I'd be ever so grateful."

"It would be my pleasure, yes indeed, Miss, er...?"

"Swansdown, Emmaline Swansdown."

"A charming name for a charming lady. And I am J. Roscoe  
Weltiver, at your service." In spite of his girth, he managed to  
execute a respectable bow.

"How do you do?"

"Now will you look at this, lying right out in the open  
here! Did you ever see the like? Would it be one of you that  
dropped it then?" A new feminine voice interjected itself into  
the conversation, along with a hand holding out a very plump  
wallet. The gentleman's eyes moved reluctantly from the bulging  
wallet and up the extended arm to see a merry young woman with  
sparkling brown eyes and dimples punctuating a ready smile.

"Let me see. I don't...I think...no, here it is." He  
looked relieved as he patted his pockets and extricated his own  
wallet, still safe in his possession. This was quickly followed  
by a crestfallen expression, as he realized he could not now  
claim the lost property as his own.

"Perhaps if you check for identification," suggested Miss  
Swansdown.

"A practical thought, my dear, you go direct to the point.  
If our new friend here will search through the article in  
question, distasteful though it may be to any person of feeling  
to delve into another's private property..."

As Mr. Weltiver rambled on, the newcomer made a quick  
inspection and came up empty, except for the money. "There must  
be a thousand dollars here," she declared. "Whatever shall we  
do?"

"'Finders keepers, losers weepers' has always been a motto  
with merit," stated the practical Miss Swansdown. "In my  
opinion."

"Wise beyond your years, my dear. Yes, I must agree.  
Though we might hesitate to benefit from another's misfortune, we  
really have little choice here. Three equal shares would, I  
believe, be appropriate."

"I don't know." The lady in possession of the wallet seemed  
doubtful. "I could use the money, but it just doesn't seem right  
somehow not to at least make some effort to contact the rightful  
owner. They may have great need of it."

"You, ah, do have a point," admitted Mr. Weltiver with a  
sour look on his face, "but since we are agreed there is no way  
to do that, Miss...?"

"Oh, excuse my manners, it's Leigh. Mary Jane Leigh."

They introduced themselves all round, and then Miss Leigh  
continued, "There must be something...I know! We could  
advertise."

"Advertise?"

"Place an advertisement in the local newspaper," she  
expanded. "We could hold onto the wallet for a period of time  
after it appears, say 10 days or so, to give the person who lost  
it a chance to come forward. If no one correctly identifies it  
during that time, then we can divide the money amongst ourselves  
with clear consciences, knowing that we attempted to fulfill any  
moral obligations to the owner."

She seemed satisfied with her solution. Mr. Weltiver wasn't  
convinced and opened his mouth to say so, but before he could get  
out a word, Miss Swansdown announced, "I think Mr. Weltiver  
should place the advertisement."

He mouth snapped shut as he considered this development.  
Miss Swansdown went on, "Such an obviously successful businessman  
is bound to know more about such matters than we females. In  
fact, he should take charge of the entire proceeding, keeping the  
wallet safe, interviewing anyone who may answer the  
advertisement, and so on. If anyone's integrity comes into  
question, I'm sure we may rely on him to be the best judge of  
their intentions." She looked trustingly at him with her melting  
blue eyes.

His mind rapidly calculated the advantages to him. He could  
certainly arrange an outcome involving no successful claimants.  
He could even no doubt persuade these dear ladies to entrust  
their shares to him for "investment" when the time came. Yes,  
this could work after all. He smiled.

"Certainly, certainly. Just leave everything to me."

"Yes, well-ll..." Miss Leigh looked down at the wallet in  
her hand, then back up at Mr. Weltiver's smiling countenance.  
"I'm sure you're very trustworthy, sir." His smile broadened.  
"But..." The smile became a trifle strained. There was always a  
"but".

"But I believe a pledge of some sort would be prudent.  
Perhaps if you were to give Miss Swansdown and myself a sum of  
money to hold while you're holding the wallet, purely as a  
gesture of good faith, you understand."

"A sound idea," approved the other female member of the  
trio, "and I know _dear_ Mr. Weltiver would not take offense." She  
smiled glowingly at him.

"Oh my, no, not at all." What else could he say? "What sum  
did you have in mind?"

"Let's see." Miss Leigh thought it over. "I'd say about  
half our share of the thousand sounds fair. That would make it  
about $165. Apiece." It was Miss Leigh's turn to smile.

"Hmm, yes, well..." He blustered a bit, but couldn't see  
any way around it. He gave in gracefully and counted out $165  
for each of them from his own wallet. "And now," he said,  
holding out his hand, "I'll just take charge of our little nest  
egg here."

"Yes, but you must be very careful not to let anyone see it  
before they identify it," Miss Leigh cautioned. "Have you a  
handkerchief?"

"A handkerchief? Why yes," and he handed one over with a  
flourish.

"You must wrap the wallet in it, like so." As she began to  
suit her actions to her words, Miss Swansdown took his arm and  
spoke in his ear.

"Mr. Weltiver," she began "or may I call you Roscoe?"

"Why yes, yes. Please do."

"Roscoe, then. I _do_ look forward to furthering our  
acquaintance. Perhaps once this business matter is settled we  
could get together socially?"

"Why that would be delightful, my dear, delightful." He  
took the liberty of patting her hand. He would certainly not be  
averse to any fringe benefits here.

"There, all set." His attention was recalled to their other  
companion. She held up the silk-wrapped packet. "Now you must  
tuck it away securely in an inside pocket."

He did as she asked. "You mustn't fret your pretty little  
heads now. I shall take great care of it," he assured them.

They made arrangements to meet at his office when the  
waiting period was over. "I shall go directly to the newspaper  
to set events in motion." He was eager now to be off.

"I am still at a loss over how to find Miss Millie's," Miss  
Swansdown gently reminded.

"Miss Millie's Boarding House? I know where it is. I'm  
going that way myself, so it won't be any trouble at all to show  
you," offered Miss Leigh.

With everything settled to their mutual satisfaction, the  
three parties to the agreement departed, the gentleman going one  
way and the ladies heading in the opposite direction.

As soon as they had put some distance between them, the  
ladies looked at each other and broke into giggles.

"That has to be the most pompous pigeon we've ever plucked!"  
laughed "Mary Jane".

"Why, didn't you find him agreeable, 'my dear?'" protested  
"Emmaline".

"You know, Bess, you're becoming quite an accomplished  
flirt."

Bess/Emmaline opened her blue eyes wide. "Molly Curry, I  
would never do anything so unladylike! That was not flirting,  
that was simply being cordial."

The dimples deepened. "That's what I like about you, Bess.  
You maintain your standards even in the middle of a con."

"The fact that our unfortunate circumstances require us to  
engage in activities like the pigeon drop does not mean that we  
can't still behave like proper ladies. And speaking of our  
afternoon's activities, have we got enough for our tickets?"

"'A practical thought, my dear, you go direct to the  
point,'" Molly quoted mischievously. "Yes, with that last sting  
we've got enough for our stake. Not bad for an afternoon's work.  
I almost thought we were going to have to forfeit our seed money  
the way Mr. J. Roscoe Weltiver kept his eyes on that wallet. You  
distracted him long enough for me to retrieve our two $50 bills,  
but I don't think I want to be in town when he unwraps his prize  
and finds just the strips of newspaper that were sandwiched in  
between."

"Or when he tries to track us to Miss Millie's and finds  
there's no such place." Bess linked arms with her friend.  
"Let's head straight for the train station then. St. Louis, here  
we come!"

Molly Curry had met Bess Averill when Bess had stolen a mark  
right out from under her. She had done it with such finesse that  
Molly's reaction was admiration rather than anger. She sought  
her out later to tell her that, and Bess had apologetically  
explained that she had seen him first or else she wouldn't have  
done something she ordinarily considered so improper. Bess'  
ethics were unique, but they were firm. Moreover, she had style.  
Molly recognized a kindred talent and a partnership was born.

The "unfortunate circumstances" of their backgrounds had  
placed them both on their own at a young age. The resources  
available to a young woman needing to support herself at that  
time were rather limited. Having neither the education to be a  
schoolmarm nor the inclination to be a lady of the evening, each  
had turned to what Molly called (in her more melodramatic  
moments) their life of crime and Bess termed "making lemonade."

"Huh?" Molly had rather inelegantly asked the first time she  
heard Bess use the expression.

"When life hands you lemons, make lemonade," Bess had  
reiterated. "Some people think mottoes are meaningless or silly,  
but I find a lot of them really apply to life."

Molly thought what they applied to was a childhood spent  
stitching too many samplers, but she was too polite (usually) to  
say so. In any event, they had each been getting by at "making  
lemonade" individually, but when they collaborated it was like  
finding the missing ingredients for the recipe. They were a  
natural team.

It was nice having someone to share with. They'd both been  
alone too long. Bess had no family. None she knew anyway. Her  
mother had been cut off from her family since she'd married her  
father, of whom they disapproved. He did have a tendency to fail  
at one business venture after another, but his positive outlook  
on life never faltered, nor did his wife's and daughter's faith  
in him. Bess remembered a childhood of moving around a lot and  
not having an abundance of things, but she was loved and happy--  
until the day a carriage accident took both her parents' lives  
and left her to fend for herself.

Molly, on the other hand, did have family; she just didn't  
know where. To be more precise, it was her brother she'd lost  
track of. Her parents were still back in Ireland, as far as she  
knew. She and her brother Jamie had come to America with their  
aunt and uncle. They were to send for their parents to join them  
as soon as there was enough money. It was the Promised Land  
after all and there was money for all and to spare, or so the  
stories claimed. They didn't really believe the streets were  
paved with gold, but wasn't it a grand thought! They sailed the  
ocean and landed in Boston. It wasn't quite the Promised Land of  
legend, but they did alright for a while. Until, that is, the  
epidemic that claimed her aunt and uncle both. Then what were  
they to do, two kids alone? Two Irish immigrant kids in a Boston  
filled with Irish immigrant kids all scrambling for the same  
jobs. They scraped by, but it was no good. They weren't  
 _getting_ anywhere.

"We can't keep this up, Moll," Jamie said to her one day.  
"We can barely manage to feed ourselves from one day to the next.  
We'll never get Dad and Mother over here this way."

She knew he was right, but couldn't see a way out. Jamie  
did, though. The way was west. That's where all the  
opportunities were. That's where the country was still new and a  
man could make a life and a home. There was one problem, though.  
He couldn't take her with him.

"Not right now. There's no telling what kinds of jobs I'll  
have to work at first, or what kinds of places I'll be staying  
in. I can't be taking a young girl along."

"I'm fifteen! You're only seventeen. I can do whatever you  
can, you know it's true!" she stormed.

Her brother was adamant. "I'm sorry. It's only temporary.  
Just till I get settled somewhere. Then I'll send for you, and  
for the folks, and we'll be a family again. But you've got to  
help, Molly. You've got to help by waiting here and being  
patient."

In the end she agreed. She didn't have much choice. They  
found her a place with a family who offered room and board in  
exchange for chores and helping with the children. Chores, was  
it? They worked her like a slave. She _was_ patient. She stood  
it for almost a year before she ran off.

She decided she could wait just as well on her own. There  
was no reason the waiting had to be done in Boston either. She  
might as well see something of the west herself, and if she ran  
across Jamie while doing it, so much the better. She was pretty  
sure he wouldn't send her back. The only thing was, he wasn't  
one for writing so she didn't know where he was now. No matter.  
She had a starting point and from there she'd keep looking, keep  
moving on, doing whatever it took.

She was still looking. She'd progressed from picking  
pockets to short cons as she worked her way steadily across the  
country. She was quick to learn. The few teachers she'd had  
when younger had remarked on that. She had liked school, and  
wished she'd been able to have more of it. Now she was learning  
new lessons in a different sort of school, but she was just as  
quick to catch on.

She had faith that somewhere, sometime she'd find her  
brother again. Meanwhile she had a friend in Bess. And that  
wasn't such a bad thing to have, nor such a bad life. For now.

*****

St. Louis--Gateway to the West! It was without a doubt the  
biggest city they'd seen since they'd left the east behind.  
There was bound to be plenty of scope here for them to exercise  
their talents, A city this size just had to be teeming with  
prospective marks!

There were rules about who to target as a mark, of course.  
The basics were that it had to be someone who could afford the  
loss and someone who was essentially greedy to begin with. This  
would ensure both that the mark would take the bait and the con  
would work and that he wouldn't go running to the law when it was  
over. The girls had found that most of their victims were too  
embarrassed over being outwitted by mere females to admit it to  
 _anyone_ , let alone make a public statement to a sheriff. Coupled  
with their practice of never staying too long in any one place,  
they had so far managed to avoid any legal entanglements.

For the most part they avoided any feelings of guilt as  
well. Molly did have a twinge now and then when she thought of  
what her parents would think, but she speedily put such thoughts  
out of her mind. It was becoming easier as she travelled farther  
west, farther from Ireland, and the increasing distance was not  
just geographical.

They sat now in their hotel room in St. Louis, going over  
the final details on their most ambitious plan to date.

"Now remember, Bess, you've got to seem truly pathetic.  
Your dear, _rich_ father is languishing in a vile Mexican prison  
and the only way you can save him from this unjust fate is to  
bribe the government officials there. The corrupt, _greedy_  
officials who are demanding a _substantial_ bribe. If only you  
could get at daddy's estate, but it's so tied up legally that he  
hasn't got access from outside the country and you can't touch it  
at all. If only some kind, generous soul would help you raise  
the money you need so desperately, he would be vastly rewarded."

"Don't worry, Molly, I know just how to play it. Brave in  
the face of adversity, that's what really gets to them. A slight  
tremor in the voice, a hint of unshed tears, perhaps a trembling  
lip." She turned to the mirror to practice.

Molly watched critically but couldn't perceive a flaw. Bess  
just had a natural ability to melt the hardest-hearted of men.  
It wasn't just her beauty, though she had that in full measure.  
Molly had never seen such blue eyes on anyone save her brother  
Jamie. Her aunt had been used to say that since Jamie'd got all  
the looks in the family there'd been none left over for Molly so  
she'd have to make do with her wits instead. Well, she was doing  
just that, but her aunt hadn't lived to see how she'd grown up.  
She hadn't turned out so badly after all, but she didn't hold a  
candle to Bess.

Bess had more than looks, though. She had a quality of  
sweetness that made men instinctively want to take care of her.  
If only they suspected how well able she was to take care of  
herself.

"You've got the role down alright," Molly observed. "It's  
me that's got to take care not to make a mess of the porridge  
once you've properly boiled it up."

"Now don't go getting all Irish on me," Bess admonished.  
"You only do that when you're worried, you know, and there's no  
call to be. You've got it all figured. No matter how much they  
may feel inclined to help me, no one's going to hand over that  
much money without some investigating. You just need to  
intercept them and provide all the verification they need.  
You've the gift of blarney, you know that. No one can spin a  
tale like you or think quicker on their feet. Didn't you come up  
with this whole plan? It's going to work, Molly--why, it's  
practically foolproof!"

Molly was beginning to feel encouraged by her friend's  
reassurance--up until her final words. "I'm sure you're right.  
I just wish you hadn't said that."

*****

In any event, they never got to find out if it worked or  
not. Before they even had a chance to set up a mark, they ran  
across someone who changed all their plans.

They were crossing a hotel lobby when Molly noticed a young  
man who somehow struck a familiar chord. Then he turned around  
and she found herself looking straight into a well-remembered  
pair of blue eyes.

"Jamie!" she exclaimed, then ran right up to him and threw  
herself into his arms.

"Molly?" he said wonderingly. "Molly, is it really you?"  
He pushed her away to get a good look at her, then hugged her to  
him again.

"I've been looking all over the west for you!" she said, not  
quite knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"Me? _I've_ been looking for ”you•!" he responded. He held her  
out at arm's length to study her again. "Molly, what have you  
been up to? It's something of a baffling trail I've been  
following."

She grinned. "It's a long story, brother, but we've plenty  
of time now for the telling." Suddenly recalled to the present,  
she looked around. "Oh, there's someone I want you to meet."  
She led him over to Bess, who had been standing quietly watching  
the happy reunion of brother and sister.

"Bess Averill, this is my brother, James Curry."

He found himself gazing at a vision of an angel straight  
from heaven. He'd seen a mountain meadow once, carpeted in  
bluebells no bluer than the eyes gazing back into his. The  
lovely face was framed with silken hair fairer than his own dark  
gold curls. Her smile seemed to light up his heart. He was  
entranced.

For her part, Bess seemed to be doing a little melting of  
her own for once. Handsome, strong, radiating kindness, humor  
and integrity, he looked like a knight in shining armor straight  
out of a fairy tale. She was enthralled.

Molly watched what was happening and could almost hear the  
bells. Well, if that was the way of it, they'd have her  
blessing. There wasn't anyone she'd rather have for a sister.  
It looked like she was going to get her family at last.

*****

So here the three of them were in Kansas, on their way to  
Jamie's farm.

"A farm? In Kansas?" She couldn't quite take it in when  
he'd first excitedly told her his good news.

"Wait'll you see it, Moll! As much land as a man can want  
and soil so rich the wheat practically grows by itself! And the  
sky so blue and the air so clear and room enough to breathe  
free--it's a world away from Boston!" He smiled warmly at Bess.  
"It's a place to settle down, get married, raise children."

Children was it, already? Her brother sure wasn't letting  
the grass grow under his feet. In any case, it sounded like  
heaven to her. Exactly what she'd been longing for.

Their parents would be joining them, too. Her brother'd  
managed to save enough to pay their way out here. He'd been  
putting it off until he located Molly. He couldn't very well  
bring them over and inform them he'd lost his sister!

He'd been very understanding about the manner in which she  
and Bess had had to support themselves. Privately Molly thought  
he'd approve of anything from cattle rustling to robbing banks if  
Bess were involved. Her big brother was completely besotted.

However, they were not at all sure that their parents would  
be quite so understanding. On the other hand, lying to them  
would not lie easy on her, Molly lamented.

"Then don't lie," advised Bess, "just don't tell them the  
whole truth. Leave out some bits. What they don't know can't  
hurt them."

"I suppose I could give that a try." Molly didn't really  
sound like she thought she could at all.

"Seriously, Molly," Bess added, "what purpose can be served  
by telling them something that may only upset them? There's no  
need and no reason."

"That's true." Molly was struck by the sense of her  
friend's counsel. They agreed to leave it at that.

Now they were leaving the open Kansas prairie behind them  
and riding through fields of golden grain.

"We're on Curry land now," Jamie announced proudly.

The girls looked about them eagerly.

"It's wonderful," Bess breathed.

As they pulled up to the farmhouse, a man appeared around  
the corner of the barn.

"Jonathan!" Jamie called and waved. "My neighbor agreed to  
look after things here while I was gone," he explained to the  
girls. He hopped down from the wagon and greeted his neighbor,  
then made the introductions. "Jonathan Heyes, this is my sister  
Molly and her friend Bess Averill."

The man nodded his acknowledgement. "Ladies."

Jamie reached up a hand to assist Bess down from the wagon,  
and Jonathan turned to Molly and raised his arms. She just stood  
there for a moment, being so much in the habit of doing for  
herself. "Ma'am," he prodded, so she reached for his shoulders,  
he clasped her waist and lifted her effortlessly to the ground.  
He set her lightly on her feet and held her just a moment longer  
than necessary before releasing her.

"Welcome to Kansas, ma'am. I'm glad Jamie's trip was a  
success."

"What? Oh. Oh yes, a success." She didn't know why she  
was suddenly having trouble thinking clearly.

He smiled, a slow smile that lit up the depths of his warm  
brown eyes. "You must be tired from your long journey. I'll get  
out of your way now and let you rest and get settled in." He  
turned to leave.

"Mr. Heyes!" she called to stop him.

He paused and turned back. "Miss Curry."

"Do you and your, uh, family live nearby?"

"I own the property adjacent to your brother's. We're your  
closest neighbors hereabouts."

"We?"

"My parents and I."

"Oh, your parents, I see. I'll look forward to meeting  
them."

"I'm sure they plan to come calling, ma'am. There was some  
talk of baking--my mother considers food a necessary part of any  
social occasion. Now my father, he believes food for the mind is  
just as important as food for the body. In fact, I know he'd  
want me to be sure to offer you the use of our books."

She pricked up her ears at that. "Books? You have books?"

"Just a small collection. History, a little science,  
literature, even some poetry. They're a bit hard to come by out  
here, but my father would never consider them a mere luxury. I  
must confess to sharing his views."

"Thank you for the kind offer. I would indeed like to take  
advantage of it."

"You're very welcome, and now if you'll excuse me..."

"Oh, of course, I mustn't keep you. Good-bye and thank you  
again."

Lost in thought, she watched as he took his leave of Jamie  
and Bess. Tall, dark and handsome-- _and_ he had a mind, too. Yes,  
there were definite possibilities here. Fortune-telling had  
never been her line, but she'd be willing to place a wager on the  
likelihood that they just might wind up planning a _double_  
wedding.

THE END


End file.
